


Warm

by glitterfox19



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, M/M, Mutual Pining, Quidditch, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 03:29:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15810396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitterfox19/pseuds/glitterfox19
Summary: Scorpius is determined to show the world that he's not like his father.





	Warm

**FIRST YEAR.**

Scorpius, for a brief, blissful moment, doesn’t recognize what’s written on his trunk. He frowns at the messy, black scrawl. “PROPERTY OF S. VOLDEMORT.” For a moment, he’s stunned. And then he remembers the conversation his dad had with him, this morning.

“Scorpius,” his dad said. “I need to tell you something.”

“Is it a story?” Scorpius asked, turning around from his packing immediately. “I love those. Is it the Deathly Hallows? Or is one of your stories with the moral that I have to guess? Oh, I hope it’s the one about-”

“Scorpius,” his dad said, his voice rough. He swallowed before continuing. Scorpius immediately fell silent. He knew better than to ask questions when his dad looked like this. “It’s not a… a nice tale. It’s like, well, it’s rather like the true ones I’ve told you.”

Scorpius felt his eyes widen. His dad had only told one or two stories that were completely true. They were quite sad, and involved a lot of death and a lot of grieving, and his dad was never able to keep his emotions off of his face when he told them. 

“Many years ago, your mum and I had you.” Scorpius opened his mouth to interrupt, and then thought better of it. He settled back, leaning on his bed. His dad moved to sit down next to him, but then stopped abruptly. “Since Mum was so sick, we didn’t spend much time in the Wizarding world, outside of St. Mungo’s. That was a good decision, but it lead to some… unfortunate consequences.”

It took every bit of willpower Scorpius possessed to not interrupt and ask questions. “People in the wizarding world don’t like the Malfoy name. You know why.” Scorpius nodded. That was another true story, but his dad hadn’t told him directly. He’d given him a book with his school supplies, all about the history of Hogwarts. He’d devoured it eagerly, except for the last section that spoke of the Harry Potter era. He’d struggled to read about how his dad had helped Voldemort rise to power. But Scorpius felt better once he learned that his dad helped Harry Potter, in the end. So had Nan. 

“They began to… speculate, about our disappearance. Said unsavory things. You’ll remember that the Time Turners were seized and destroyed not long after the war?” Scorpius nodded once more. “They said that I stole one. Turned back time, and forced your mum to…” His dad looked down at his feet. He finally moved to sit down on Scorpius’ bed. Scorpius reached out a hand and held his father’s, only for a moment. His dad stopped looking so green, and gave Scorpius a watery, shaky smile. “They think you’re Voldemort’s son.”

“But that’s impossible. You and I both know that you don’t have a Time Turner.” His dad gave Scorpius a tight-lipped smile and nodded. A muscle in his jaw twitched. After a long moment, his dad patted Scorpius on the back and called out, “Astoria! We’re ready to go!” 

He shuts his eyes. Scorpius hates that everything has to be so complicated. He didn’t do anything wrong, for Merlin’s sake! Even if he were Voldemort’s child, and his dad had reassured him countless times that there was no way that was possible, it didn’t mean he was evil at his core, too! Scorpius tosses his trunk aside violently and sits down. Hugging his knees to his chest, he tucks his face down and out of sight, and resolves to take a nap. 

For a second, he hates his dad. He immediately banishes the thought; Scorpius feels sick at the mere idea. No, he has a better plan. He’s going to fix all the mistakes his dad made. It’ll show everyone that there’s no way that he’s Voldemort’s son and that there’s no way to inherit evil. He smiles, despite everything. It feels nice to have a plan. 

The door opens, and Scorpius sits up quickly. He’s already had two people come and go (not without some harsh words about Scorpius’ family), so he takes a deep breath to prepare for whatever reaction may come.

It’s a boy and a girl. They look familiar, but Scorpius can’t quite place them at first. The boy has the messiest hair Scorpius has ever seen in his life. His eyes are the exact color of Slytherin green - and Scorpius would know, because that’s the color his bedroom has been for as long as he can remember.

The girl has dark skin and a disarmingly bright smile. She’s laughing at something the boy just said as they open the door. Scorpius squirms in his seat. He remembers who they are. The boy’s a Potter, and the girl’s a Granger-Weasley.

They don’t notice him at first. The girl sees the empty seats across from him before she sees that the other side is occupied. She squeals with delight and tugs, hard, on the boy’s arm. The boy makes a snappy comment - Scorpius is too absorbed in the fact that there’s a Potter, in front of him, and he’s not running away screaming, to decipher what he said.

And then everything freezes. “Oh, Albus. I think we should find somewhere else.” The girl is staring him down with palpable contempt. Her lip is curled. Scorpius shrinks down in his seat. 

“Why?” the boy asks. He looks at Scorpius. “Rose, you know-”

“I’m going to find somewhere else, Albus. Feel free to join me,” the girl - Rose - says. It’s scathing. Scorpius feels tears prick at the corner of his eyes. He knew the first day might be rough - his dad told him so - but he’s exhausted, and he wishes for a friend. That’s all. Friends like his dad had.

The boy’s next words nearly cause Scorpius to jolt out of his seat. “No thanks.” He speaks firmly, but he keeps his gaze trained on the ground. Rose sniffs primly and walks back out of the cabin. 

“I’ll see you in a few, Albus.” The door slams shut. Albus winces. Scorpius doesn’t dare open his mouth. He doesn’t want to ruin everything.

“Well,” Albus says. “My name’s Albus. But call me Al, please. My name’s a bit clunky.”

“Mine’s - er, Scorpius.” Al whistles lowly, and Scorpius looks up, a grin already spreading over his face.

“Yeah, our names are both clunky. It’s hard to nickname Scorpius, though, isn’t it?” Scorpius nods in careful agreement. He’s itching to talk about what his name means and how he got it and how wonderful his dad is… but this boy is a Potter, after all.

“Yeah.” The silence is awkward, stiff. Scorpius hates it. It feels like starchy dress robes.

“What’s this?” Oh, no. Scorpius feels his heart climb into his throat. Al is looking at his trunk, with the ugly graffiti scrawled onto it. “Is… your name’s not…”

“No.” There’s so much force behind it that Al takes a step back, and Scorpius rushes to fix it. “No, no, it’s... my dad told me that everyone thinks that I’m… and I’m not. I’m not,” he says firmly. “I’m not related to… Voldemort.”

Al is staring at him like he just proclaimed to be Nicholas Flamel. Scorpius can’t help but add, bitterly, “Apparently, I look similar enough to my father to be a Death Eater, but not enough to be his son.” The moment the scathing words leave his mouth, Scorpius wishes he could take them back. But he can’t. Scorpius sits down so heavily his breath escapes him momentarily. Al looks as though he doesn’t quite know what to do, so he pulls a face and ends up hesitantly patting his newfound friend on the shoulder.

“I believe you.” Al is biting at his cuticle, and his green eyes are so bright and so large, and Scorpius smiles.

“That’s good,” Scorpius says. “That’s great.” They sit in silence, an uncomfortable distance apart. Scorpius doesn’t know how to break the silence. He’s never talked to anyone his age before for this long. It’s always been his Dad, who tells him everything and then some, and his Mum, who listens to everything he says. He fingers the candy bag in his robes. He takes a deep breath. He’s never felt this shy before. He’s never had reason to, he supposes.

“Do you want sweets?” he asks. Al’s eyes get brighter, if that’s even possible. “Mum says it helps you make friends.” And then he sings the song that she taught him this morning.

“Is that a jingle?” Al asks, leaning forward. Scorpius furrows his brow.

“I don’t know that word.” He tilts his head to the side. “And I know a lot of words.”

“It’s a Muggle thing. I don’t suppose you…” Al trails off. Scorpius thinks he knows the reason why, so he rushes to fill the pause before Al can say anything wrong. 

“Oh, I love Muggle things! I made Dad buy Muggle kitchen things because I wanted to know how they made their food without magic. We had to go to a big shop in London. It was quite bright; I didn’t like the lights. Anyway, we have a toaster, which makes bread crunchy and warm. I don’t use it, though, because I don’t want to make croissants crunchy. They’re much better soft.” Al nods furiously after every word Scorpius says.

“Well, a jingle is something that Muggles use to encourage each other to buy things. Like, an advertisement. We have those here. But they make up little songs, and it helps them remember what product they saw on the television. Do you know what those are? Er, televisions, I mean?”

“No, but tell me! I need to know!” Scorpius has never felt this tingly before in his entire life, including the time that he went to the Muggle appliance store to buy a toaster. At the time, he felt like he was full of bubbles. Now, he’s still full of bubbles, but the bubbles are exploding. It’s the best sensation he’s ever experienced in his whole life.

Al is the best at explaining things. He uses big gestures that don’t really mean anything, but for whatever reason make it easier for Scorpius to remember the concepts he’s talking about. He’s patient, and never judges Scorpius for not knowing what something is, even if it sounds really simple.

They’re still talking about different Muggle electronic devices when the train grinds to a halt. Scorpius is buzzing with nerves. He grabs Al’s hand without thinking twice about it. Al looks at it like it’s an appendage he grew suddenly and isn’t quite sure what to do with it.

“Oh, sorry!” Scorpius starts to move his hand, but Albus flips his palm and grabs his hand right back. 

“I’m nervous, too,” Al says. “About the Sorting. Where do you think you’re going to go?”

“I want to go to Ravenclaw,” Scorpius says. “I don’t want to be like my dad. That’s what everyone says I am, but it doesn’t make sense.”

“I know what you mean.” Al scuffs his trainer on the carpeted floor of the train. “Everyone thinks I’m like Harry Potter because I look like him. I hope I get Gryffindor, though. I don’t know if I’m brave, but I don’t want to stick out from my family. A Potter hasn’t ever been in any other house.” 

“I don’t think you’re a Gryffindor,” Scorpius says, matter-of-fact. “I think you’re too nice to be a Gryffindor. My dad says Gryffindors are obnoxious and too loud.”

“James is certainly obnoxious and too loud,” Al says. He’s biting at the cuticles on his other hand. Scorpius worries that he’s going to make himself bleed on accident. “That’s my brother. But I don’t know. I want to be happy, wherever I am. Maybe I’ll follow you to Ravenclaw!”

“Now you sound like a Hufflepuff.” Scorpius pulls on his friend’s hand. “C’mon, let’s get our trunks. Everyone’s probably getting off by now.” 

Al struggles to lift his trunk. Scorpius slides out his wand and carefully enunciates the Feather-Light Charm. Al stares at him like he has three heads. “What?” Scorpius asks. “We’re at Hogwarts. We can do magic.”

“We haven’t learned any, though.” Al still looks at him like he’s a totally different species. Scorpius isn’t sure if he likes it or if it makes his skin crawl. He decides he’s okay with it. “How did you know that charm?”

“Oh, I read all my textbooks before going to school.” If anything, Al’s gaze gets more incredulous. “My favorite is _Hogwarts: A History_. I’m excited for History of Magic, really.”

Al shakes his head and makes the low whistle sound again. “You’re definitely a Ravenclaw. If I had any doubts, I don’t anymore.”

They walk off of the train, their trunks much easier to carry now. They’re a little ways behind all the other first years, so Scorpius tugs on Al’s hand, and they break out into a bumbling, slow jog. They catch up right as they reach the lake.

“Firs’ years! Firs’ years this way!” a voice bellows. Al grins, but Scorpius feels his knees knocking together. He tightens his grip on Al’s hand.

“What’s that?” His voice doesn’t quiver. He’s eleven years old, so he’s too old for his voice to shake in any way. He stands up a bit straighter in an effort to convince himself of this fact.

“That’s Hagrid,” Al says, drawing Scorpius close. “It’s okay. He’s half-giant, but he’s really cool. Loves magical creatures. He bought my dad an owl. We should go say hi!” 

If anything convinces Scorpius that he is not cut out for Gryffindor, this confirms it. He has no idea how resolute Al is as they walk towards this gigantic person. Scorpius is trembling in nearly every limb, but Al’s fingers don’t tremor at all. Unfair.

“Albus!” Hagrid roars, and pulls Al into a hug that looks rather bone-crushing. Scorpius tries not to flinch at the volume. “How have you been? And who’s this? What’s yer name?”

“I’m Scorpius,” he says in a tiny voice. Hagrid has to lean down to hear him. 

“Scorpius?” he asks. His face darkens. “Scorpius Malfoy?”

“Yes,” he says, and sticks up his chin. 

“He’s one of my friends, Hagrid!” Al says. Hagrid looks at him askance, but only for a moment. He claps the two of them on the back. Scorpius nearly goes flying into the lake from the force of the impact. 

“Nice to meet you, Malfoy.”

“Scorpius,” Al corrects. Hagrid’s eyes got any wider, they’d fall out of his head. Scorpius lowers his chin, but he still digs his fingernails into Al’s palm. He’ll apologize for that later. Right now, he has to focus on not dying of terror.

“Very well. Here’s a boat for the two of yeh.” Hagrid gestures at a small wooden boat, only meant for two people. “Usually we’ll pile more in, but you two are ones of the last. Lucky, aren’t yeh? Go on, go ahead. It won’t tip on yeh.” 

Scorpius half-flings himself into the boat, pulling Al right along. As soon as they’re floating along, he releases his vice-like grip on Al’s hand.

“Sorry,” he says quietly. Al grins, and his smile is almost as bright as the stars above them.

“It’s okay, Scorp.” Scorpius’ nose wrinkles immediately at the nickname.

“Scorp?” 

“Yeah,” Al says. “It’s a nickname. Remember, clunky names? Not that it’s not… a good name, or anything, or…” Scorpius stifles a laugh behind a hand. Al glowers and shoves him playfully, which causes Scorpius to yelp.

“I’ve never been called anything other than Scorpius before. Well, my parents call me Scorpius Hyperion if they’re mad at me, but I think that’s longer than Scorpius, so it can’t be a nickname. Also, it reminds me of all the times I’ve been in trouble, so please don’t call me that.” Al’s making a funny honking sound, so Scorpius turns to look at him. He realizes that Al is laughing. There’s tears on his cheeks, and he’s red-faced from trying to control it.

“Sorry,” he wheezes. Scorpius takes one look at his appearance and joins right in. They laugh about nothing until their chests hurt and their breaths come in pants. 

“Look!” They emerge from the tunnels, and they both gasp. The castle looms, its lights the brightest sight other than the stars. 

This time, Al is the one to grab Scorpius’ hand. Scorpius squeezes back, and they huddle closer together. Scorpius resists the urge to play with his blank tie and worry. “I’m up there,” he tells Al. Al shifts and blinks at him.

“Right. You’re named after a constellation, how could I forget.” He looks up. “Which one is you?”

“We won’t get a good view. It’s best in the middle of the summer. If you look at the edge… right there..” He guides Al’s pointer finger gently. “It’s that big bright star, and then those three little ones… do you see that?”

“Yeah. I like it. It’s cool.” In the darkness, Scorpius can see Al shifting around. “Are you excited for Astronomy?”

“Oh, absolutely. I brought a specialized telescope. I know you’re not supposed to do that, but it was a birthday present from my Nan. It’s really cool. Hopefully we’re in the same house, or at least the same classes, because then I can show you.”

Finally, they arrive at Hogwarts. Al jumps out first, and then holds out his hand to Scorpius. Scorpius likes the amount of hand-holding he can do with Al now. If this is what having friends is like, then he thinks he enjoys it. They grab their trunks with their other hands and trot up to the castle.

“Dad always said the castle was beautiful,” Al confides in a low tone. Scorpius shuffles closer, eager to hear every word. “I never knew how right he was, though.”

Scorpius nods in agreement. The yellowish light emanating from in front is haunting, but starkly beautiful at the same time. It makes him squeeze Al’s hand tighter. “I’m a little afraid, actually,” Scorpius confesses, “but I think everything will be alright.” They’ve reached the door already. Scorpius takes a deep breath, but Al cuts him off quickly. 

Al frowns. “About the Sorting? We already discussed this, you’re gonna be-”

“No, I mean… classes. Other people.” Scorpius ignores the whisper in the back of his mind - _you belong in Slytherin, Malfoy. Nowhere else_ \- “I never met anyone else my age until today, you know. And you’re very nice. But Dad told me that not everyone would be.”

“I’ll make them,” Al declares firmly. “They’ll have to listen to me. C’mon, let’s go.” They duck behind the othe first years and catch their first glimpse of the Great Hall.

Scorpius gasps out loud. It’s exactly how he imagined it, but better. Everything is jaw-droppingly beautiful. His dad’s descriptions didn’t quite do it justice. He’s carefully shuffled into a line by alphabetical order, but Al stands close by. Scorpius is secretly grateful.

“Rulebreaker,” Scorpius teases. Al sticks out his tongue. “Exactly like your dad, aren’t you? Except way less intimidating. You couldn’t scare a flea with that face you’re making.” Al quickly rearranges his features when a professor walks by, scrutinizing the students’ behavior. 

Once he leaves, Al puffs out his chest. He’s far too scrawny for it to have any real effect. “I’m definitely more scary than my dad is. Even though I don’t know any magic.” Al deflates quickly. “Maybe you should teach me a few dueling spells. To be careful.”

“Absolutely not.” Scorpius nearly jumps out of his skin. Directly behind Al (who is quivering in his boots) stands a tall, imposing lady who looks like he could be Scorpius’ wizened grandma. She wears a pointed hat and spectacles -

“Headmaster McGonagall,” he says, bowing deeply. “It is nice to meet you.”

The barest hint of a smile flashes across McGonagall’s face. “A pleasure, Mr. Malfoy. I see your father instructed you in manners. Mr. Potter, I trust that you’ll befriend Mr. Malfoy; perchance you can take a piece of parchment out of his book, hopefully?”

Al stutters a few consonants of what sounds like an apology. McGonagall whisks away before he can properly utter a sentence. He flames red long after she’s gone. Scorpius smiles at his newfound friend. “See, clearly I’m the better influence.”

“Shove off,” Al says. “The Hat’s singing.”

And so it is. It goes off into a silly little ditty about the qualities of each House - Scorpius half-listens; his stomach is lurching uncomfortably with nerves. He reminds himself of his list of Ravenclaw qualities, and hears Al’s voice in his head.

 _I’ll be in Ravenclaw for Dad,_ Scorpius thinks. _I have to be. It’s the only way to succeed here at Hogwarts. I’d do anything to make him proud. Him and Mum._

It isn’t long before the Hat calls, “Malfoy, Scorpius.” Scorpius gives Al the barest hint of a smile. before walking up to Professor Longbottom. He smiles down at him, and Scorpius sits down with a decided, heavy sound. The hat covers his eyes soon after.

“Oh, a Malfoy,” a booming voice crows in his ear. Scorpius grips the edge of the chair tightly. “I know what to do with you.”

“No, you don’t,” Scorpius thinks insistently. The hat pauses. He worries that he’s been impertinent.

“I don’t?” There’s a playful lilt to the words, and Scorpius relaxes and squares his shoulders. He can do this. 

“No. I don’t belong in Slytherin. And I’m definitely not a Hufflepuff. And there’s no way I’m a Gryffindor. Therefore, I’m a Ravenclaw.” Somehow, Scorpius can feel the Hat raising an eyebrow. He doesn’t know how. He soldiers on with his reasons. “I love the pursuit of knowledge. I’ve read everything there is in Malfoy Manor, and then some, because I owl-order books without my parents knowing. They usually find out anyway though. But I know a lot of things, especially about the war, and how my dad’s not a good person. Plus, I’m very intelligent, so I know that I shouldn’t be in Slytherin, because that’s what everyone’s expecting and I’m trying to make wrong things right. My dad says I’m curious. And intellectually bright. And- you know.” Scorpius is thankful that he doesn’t need to take breaths when he’s thinking. He’s pretty sure he’s stunned the hat into submission.

Then, the hat laughs in his ear. “I do see your curiosity, boy, and your love of reading and books. But don’t you think your thought process is rather Slytherin of you?”

“No,” Scorpius thinks stubbornly. “No, I’m not a Slytherin.”

“You’re intensely loyal to your family, which, while that is more of a Hufflepuff trait generally speaking, is something noted in many Slytherins. You have an interesting knack for self-preservation. You don’t want people to tease you because you’re like your dad. I can see into your thoughts, little one, don’t get all stiff on me. I know that’s why you want to be in Ravenclaw. And, of course, your plan is a good scheme… no, I know where you belong…” 

“SLYTHERIN!” the hat bellows. The hat is removed, and Scorpius blinks. People clap from all the tables, but there’s an uncertainty to it. He sits next to another first-year boy, but he doesn’t know his name. He wonders what the strangeness is, lingering in the atmosphere.

“You took forever, mate,” the small boy sitting next to him says. “You were almost ten minutes on that chair. Everyone thought you’d be stuck there forever.”

“Longest hatstall I’d ever seen,” an older student joins in. He fixes Scorpius with a look that makes his blood run cold, but only for a moment. “But you’re here now, and that’s all that matters. We’re happy to have you.” Scorpius musters a weak smile. He taps his fingers on the table to disguise how badly they’re shaking. 

He tunes out the rest of the Sorting until, “Potter, Albus.” He sits up straight, back rigid. A selfish part of him wants Al to come to Slytherin, too, but he knows that Potters don’t belong in Slytherin. Scorpius slumps slightly remembering this. 

Al’s face is practically white, but he still manages to sit on the chair. The hat goes over his eyes, and hesitates, but only for a moment. It seems to be arguing with itself, before shaking itself and announcing, “SLYTHERIN!”

Everything stops. No one moves, not even Longbottom to remove the hat. Al stands and shakily takes a few steps towards his table. He’s not looking at anyone in particular, merely scanning the Great Hall. When his eyes land on Scorpius, though, he beams and walks determinedly to his new table.

Scorpius stands up and claps loudly. Soon, everyone joins in, but not without whispers filling the hall. It takes a good few minutes before everyone settles down and the next person can be Sorted. When Al reaches the table, Scorpius wraps an arm around him. Al is still smiling toothily at him.

“See? We ended up together, after all!” Scorpius can’t help but smile too. Al’s enthusiasm… and relief, somehow… is infectious. The other boy is practically beaming. 

“It’s funny,” Scorpius says. “We don’t have to be like our fathers.”

“My dad said he almost got Sorted into Slytherin.” Al pauses. “Maybe he and I are more alike than I thought.”

“But we’re not. We’re friends, aren’t we?” Scorpius says. “Our dads weren’t friends.”

“Maybe… maybe we can be who we want to be. And not focus on... trying to be the opposite of them.” 

“I like that plan. We’ll be the best versions of ourselves, and not anyone else.” Scorpius sticks out a hand. “Let’s shake on it.”

Al laughs. “Feels awful formal, doesn’t it?” When Scorpius doesn’t drop it, though, he rolls his eyes and good-naturedly shakes his hand. “Alright, that seals the deal. We’ll be the best Scorpius and Albus ever. No one can stop us.”

**SEVENTH YEAR.**

Something flashes gold from right below him - the Snitch. Scorpius quickly flips himself over and begins a steep descent upside down. His eyes are watering even with his goggles fastened tightly. 

The Ravenclaw Seeker isn’t in sight. It’s all him. The wind whistles in his ears. Down, down, down he goes. He knows that everyone’s eyes are on him. The crowd takes shape in his peripheral vision - the green and the blue masses screaming - but his eyes stay focused.

There. He can see its wings flapping. He stretches out a hand, still upside down, squinting his eyes-

And the weight is warm and flutters in his palm. He’s done it. Scorpius grins widely, but still continues to hang upside down as he flies towards the grass of the pitch. His teammates are screaming his name. The announcer yells, “and Malfoy’s got the Snitch! 330-170 to Slytherin!” 

He looks over his shoulder, to where he knows Al is. He frowns. Al isn’t facing him. He can’t see the brown-haired boy. 

And then he sees it. There’s a couple - the girl with the ginger hair, the boy with the bird’s nest. The boy. His heart stops. It’s Al. It’s Al and some Slytherin girl. They separate, and Al spots Scorpius and smiles. The grin occupies his entire face.

It strikes Scorpius, suddenly, that Al has never smiled at him like that. His heart hurts, and for a moment, he forgets where he is. He loosens his grip on his broom. Al yells loudly, but it’s nearly indistinguishable from the noises of the crowd. Headfirst, he falls in what feels like slow motion. He blacks out before he hits the ground.

**THIRD YEAR.**

Scorpius feels his father lingering over his shoulder, but he can’t bring himself to meet his eyes. He stares resolutely at the dirt coalescing over the casket.

Al is shifting in his seat. Scorpius doesn’t want to look at him either. Recently, something funny has happened when he looks Al directly in the eyes. He doesn’t want to dwell on that.

His mum is dead, and he’s too busy freaking out about his own personal life. The guilt crushes his lungs.

“It’s alright to cry, Scorpius,” his dad says in a quiet voice. “Neither of us will judge you. The reporters are gone, if you’re worried about that.”

Scorpius clenches his fists. He’d nearly forgotten the flashing cameras, how they’d blinded him through his restrained tears. His blood boils, and he wants, suddenly, to smash something. He restrains himself, if just.

“I’m not going to cry, Dad,” Scorpius says, but the crack in the middle of his words betrays him. He turns to face his father.

His dad looks like someone ripped out his heart. His face is downcast, pinched to the point where it appears painful. The skin beneath his eyes is red and blotchy, his eyes red-rimmed.

Scorpius looks down at his lap again and feels a tear escape and slide down his cheek. He doesn’t want to look at anything anymore.

Al puts a hand on his upper back. Scorpius nearly jumps. His best friend starts to rub his back in slow, steady circles. Scorpius lets out a hiccuping sob, surprised. 

Eventually, Scorpius leans his head on Al’s shoulder. He can practically feel the smile on Al’s face, and for a fraction of a second, he feels a glimmer of happiness. It is dashed immediately once he remembers where he is.

Merlin, he’s sick. To be seeking happiness after Mum- he can’t finish that thought. He turns his face away from his father’s and from Al’s and sobs brokenly into Al’s shoulder.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Al mumbles, over and over again. Scorpius feels his skin prickle with self-loathing, and he cries harder.

He can hear snatches of a conversation between Al and his dad. He focuses instead on the material of Al’s dress robes. It’s soft and thankfully absorbent. Scorpius mentally apologizes to Al for the sheer amount of tears (and possibly mucus) he’s gotten on his fancy robes.

Then, Al shakes his shoulder. “Hey, I need to contact my dad - your dad wants to talk with you anyway.”

“Okay.” Scorpius grips onto Al’s robes tightly. Al removes his hand with a gentle shake.

“C’mon, it’ll be good for you,” Al says. He walks off. Scorpius sees the other boy glance back, smile, before performing a complicated motion with his wand.

Scorpius turns away. His dad looks down at him. “Hey there.”

“Hi, Dad.”

They stand there, neither knowing what to say.

“I’m glad you have a friend like Albus. To be with you. He’s a good friend, yeah?” his dad asks, all in a rush. Scorpius smiles. Trust his dad to worry about everything at a time like this. Some things never change. 

“Yeah, he is.” Then he remembers all the bullying- all of the everything- and the grin evaporates. “But he’s having a hard time, too. I can’t… I can’t expect him to handle all of my stuff, on top of all of his, too.”

And then Scorpius breaks down in tears again. He covers his face with his hands, mortified; not that he’s crying in front of his dad, but rather because of how unexpected the tears are. The guilt comes rushing back.

“Dad, I haven’t been a good son.” 

His dad’s eyebrows draw together. “How do you mean, Scorpius?”

“I… I’m worrying about my own things instead of respecting Mum’s memory.” His lip wobbles, and more tears fall.

Before he can continue, his dad wraps him in his arms firmly. Scorpius holds back, squeezing tightly, and cries.

“You could never,” his dad tells him. “Everyone experiences grief in different ways. It’s okay to feel whatever you want to feel. You’re not disrespecting Mum. She would want you to be happy.”

“But…” His dad draws him even closer, and Scorpius forgets what he was going to say. 

“You can always talk to me about… whatever’s bothering you. I support you no matter what.” Scorpius blinks and looks up at his dad. His mind goes blank for a moment with panic.

“Even things that… that aren’t… right?”

“I’m not following again, Scorpius.”

Scorpius takes a deep breath. “Like, what if I don’t want to have… kids?” He keeps it purposefully vague. He can’t even admit these odd feelings to himself, nevermind his father of all people.

“Then I’ll know that I raised you well.” Scorpius inhales sharply.

“What?”

“It was… our mission to raise you without forcing nonsense down your throat. We never wanted you to grow up with a burden on your shoulders.” His dad’s eyes flick to Al, but Scorpius convinces himself he’s imagined it. His dad hugs Scorpius tightly again. “And…” his dad’s voice cracks. “And I want you to be happy above all. Your mum, too.”

They stand there, together, for what feels like forever. A thought crosses Scorpius’ mind, unbidden but still true: Scorpius wants to be just like his father when he grows up.

**SEVENTH YEAR.**

When he comes to, Madam Pomfrey’s expression matches that of a disgruntled pitbull. “What I don’t understand, Mr. Malfoy, is why you let go of your broom. How irresponsible! And the game was already over!”

Scorpius shifts and feels a stabbing pain. He manages to turn his neck, if only slightly. Al is sitting in the chair next to his bed. He looks like he swallowed a lemon whole. When he sees Scorpius looking at him, he musters a smile.

“Hey there, Scorp,” he says quietly. “You gave me a scare there.”

Scorpius can’t speak. His vocal cords aren’t damaged, he knows that, but he can’t summon any words to say. So he just looks at Al. His eyes are red, and his hair’s more mussed up than usual, like he’s been combing it with a branch since Scorpius last saw him up in the stands. Up in the stands. His stomach twists uncomfortably, and he blanches.

Madam Pomfrey tuts once to herself. “Mr. Malfoy, if you need a sick bowl, please alert your companion.” The last word comes out as a mix between a question and a snort. She turns away briskly. “I will be assembling your potions. Mr. Potter, I believe visiting hours are over.”

“Okay.” Al doesn’t rise, though. He looks over Scorpius. Scorpius feels himself get itchy. He knows his cheeks are beginning to turn rosy over the intensity of Al’s stare. But he still can’t force any words out. “I’ll see you, Scorp. I’ll get your assignments, yeah?”

Scorpius nods. Al tries to smile again, but it looks feeble. He then leaves the Hospital Wing. Pomfrey watches his exit before making another motherly clucking sound. “Poor thing was worried sick about you. He nearly beat you to the Wing.”

“Don’t let him come back in.” The words leave Scorpius’ mouth before he can even process them. Pomfrey gives him a look of utter surprise.

“Alright, then, Mr. Malfoy.” She hands him a potion. “I’ll… I’ll tell him that you’re too ill for visitors. The potions have had an awful effect on you.” She nods to herself, and then sends Scorpius another pitying look that makes him grit his teeth.

Scorpius feels the inane urge to hiss at her like he’s a cat that was thrown into bathwater. He elects to turn onto his side, despite the pain, and ignore her words. Pomfrey begins to narrate his injuries to him. “Bruised ribs, possible broken bone in left arm, mild whiplash.”

Bruised heart, too, he wants to add, but his mouth doesn’t allow the words to fall out.

When he’s discharged a day and a half later, Al is waiting outside of the Wing. Scorpius startles at the sight of the other boy and ends up swinging his elbow into his friend’s side. Doubled-over, Al bursts into laughter. It’s the best thing Scorpius has heard in awhile.

Unbidden, the image of Al kissing the Slytherin girl forces his way to the forefront of his mind and the smile falls from his face. Al notices, despite his eyes being watery from both pain from Scorpius’ wayward elbow and elation.

“Alright, Scorp?” Al asks. He slings an arm around Scorpius’ shoulders. Normally the gesture is welcomed, craved, even, but Scorpius’ stomach is rolling about dangerously. Al’s appendage feels like a heavy wool scarf in the summertime. 

“Alright.” Al raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything further. He moves his arm - thank Merlin - and they walk back in silence to the Slytherin dormitory. Al speaks the password once they arrive, thank Merlin. Scorpius probably couldn’t remember anything of use other than the facial features of that stupid ginger Slytherin.

Al closes the door of the dormitory behind them. They’re alone in the spacious room. It feels too cold, and Scorpius feels exhausted despite all of his bed rest. He moves to collapse onto his bed, but Al catches his shoulder. Scorpius could wiggle out of his grasp if he wanted, but he’s far too tired to even try that. 

“Are… are you alright?” Al tries again. 

“Peachy.” The response doesn’t elicit the chuckle out of Al that it normally does. If anything, it makes him more suspicious. Scorpius sighs and resigns himself to the questioning that he’s about to receive. 

“You don’t sound so peachy.” Al crosses his arms. “Was it the game? You were great, you know. Everyone was so proud of you. Could you hear me cheering?”

“A bit hard to hear you cheering, as your tongue was down that ginger’s throat.” Scorpius feels his chest cave in. His rib starts to ache. Al has an odd look in his eye. The muscles around it spasm, and he clenches his teeth.

“Emily?” Al asks, his voice low. “There were no tongues anywhere, Scorpius. It was a chaste kiss. And she kissed me, for the record. It wasn’t- you weren’t there-”

“Doesn’t matter. She’s still… I don’t trust her. I don’t get it. Why didn’t you tell me?” Scorpius’ voice breaks midway through the word why. His throat feels raw and he hasn’t even started to cry yet, but judging by the tears that constrict his throat, he’s not far off. His brain is buzzing. _What did Al mean? What was he going to say?_ He shoves those thoughts out of mind as soon as they occur to him. 

“Why don’t you trust her?” Al speaks like he’s talking to an insolent toddler. It drives Scorpius mad. He wants to scream at the top of his lungs.

“Because she’s ginger.” _Because it isn’t me,_ bubbles up to his mouth, but he clenches his teeth and swallows the thought. Now is not the time for that confession. The time for that confession is never. 

“What does it matter if she’s- she’s ginger, Scorp, are you listening to yourself?” Al says. His voice is getting louder. Scorpius digs his nails into his palm. Somehow, he knows, deep down, that he’s not thinking rationally. But it makes sense to him, and Merlin, he’s going to make Al see sense, too. He takes a deep breath and tries again.

“Do you remember the deal we made? In first year?” Scorpius says weakly. 

Al’s eyes narrow. He looks dangerous. Scorpius can’t help but stare at the way his jaw muscles twitch, how his mouth moves when he spits out words. “Yes, and what does that matter?”

“We said we wouldn’t be like our dads. We- we promised, Al. You promised. We even shook on it. And maybe it’s a small thing, but dating someone with red hair, you know, it’s almost like a pattern-”

“What the hell, Scorpius!” Al grabs his shoulders, forcing Scorpius to look him in the eyes. Scorpius wishes he wouldn’t, because Al’s green eyes are the source of all this disaster in the first place. If Al hadn’t had such beautiful eyes to begin with, Scorpius wouldn’t be having this problem anyway. “That- that wasn’t a real thing! We said we’d be our best selves, our fathers be damned! You remember that!”

“Maybe so.” Scorpius worries his lip. There’s a dull roar sounding in his ears, like the way waves sound from a distance. Something bad’s about to happen. He can practically smell it. The words from before start clawing at his stomach. _Because it isn’t me._ Any longer and he’s going to say something that hurts. His eyes dart to the doorway, but Al tracks that motion.

“No. You’re not leaving me until you explain to me what the hell is going on with you,” Al says viciously. He takes a few confident strides forward, leaving Scorpius trapped in the corner of the dormitory. “And you better say it fast. Who cares if Emily’s got red hair? I don’t. No one else does. It literally could not matter less.” Al jabs his finger at Scorpius’ chest. “And- you don’t understand, anyway, it wasn’t what you-” Scorpius feels dizzy. The roar in his ears escalates, and he feels so angry, everything’s burning red-hot, and then white. 

“It matters because it isn’t me!” Scorpius explodes. There’s a pregnant pause as his words sink in. Al looks shell-shocked. Something flickers across his face, but Scorpius doesn’t want to linger on that. Then his expression hardens, closes off, and Scorpius can’t read his face anymore. He’s impassive. Scorpius hates it.

For a brief, shining moment, everything is perfectly still. Scorpius doesn’t even breathe. Everything hands in the balance. His heart is pounding in his ears. He clenches his fists, steels his resolve, and repeats himself. “Because it isn’t me.”

Al’s mouth forms the shape of many words, but no sound escapes his lips. Then: “For how long?”

“For how long what?” Scorpius asks. He thinks he’s going to fall over.

“How long have you… felt that.” Al’s words are staccato, monotone. 

“I think…” Scorpius swallows. He knows when it was, but he’s not sure Al would be so receptive. All of a sudden, holding his head up feels like it takes tremendous effort. “I’m not sure. Third year maybe? But I thought in fifth year… that solidified things for me.”

Al looks green. “When we… you know. And you wouldn’t speak to me for a week after.” Still Scorpius cannot detect any overwhelming emotion, positive or negative, in his eyes. Scorpius is itching to ask Al if he remembers that day the same way. He can’t get the words out. 

Suddenly, Al gasps out loud and closes his eyes. Realization has flooded his face, but of what Scorpius is uncertain. His hand twitches of its own accord. His eyes snap open once more, and he looks horrified. Scorpius thinks he’s going to puke. _He’s horrified by me._ “I have to go,” he announces. He grabs his bag off of Scorpius’ bed.

He turns on his heel. “I’m going. I’ll… I’ll…” He can’t meet Scorpius’ eyes. “Yeah.” Al quickly and purposefully walks towards the dormitory door. The door swings shut with a loud bang. Scorpius flinches. 

“I’m sorry,” Scorpius calls. He’s not sure if Al heard him. He’s not sure if it matters.

Scorpius doesn’t realize he’s walking backwards until he hits the wall. His knees buckle from underneath him. Slowly, he slides down the dormitory wall until he’s slumped on the floor. But no tears come. 

**FIFTH YEAR.**

“Al! Scorpius! Come over here, sit with us!” They both look at each other with quirked eyebrows. Scorpius’ expression is so scrunched up and disgruntled and confused and adorable that Al nearly laughs out loud and pinches his cheeks. Almost. 

Al turns and faces the small huddle in the common room. It’s comprised of only Slytherins, those who haven’t teased Scorpius and Al since first year. An uncomfortable itch settles under his skin; they’re not still teasing him only because of fickle house loyalty and because they had a proper adventure last year.

“Let’s enjoy being popular, Al,” Scorpius hisses in his ear, before plastering a wide smile on his face. “Alright, alright! We’re coming!” 

Al is caught off-guard - didn’t they want to keep a low profile after last year? - but lets Scorpius drag him over to the circle of people. A girl with long, red hair - Emily maybe? - passes him a potion with a red cap. He stares at it. It must be a WWW product, but the label’s been removed.

“We’re playing Ultimate Truth or Dare,” she says, giggling into her hand. Al looks at Scorpius, who shrugs. Neither of them have heard of this game. “So someone asks you to pick a truth or a dare. Then you pick one and they ask the question or give you the task. You then decide if you want to accept or to refuse and then drink the respective potion - red for dare, blue for truth.”

Al frowns. “What’s the point of the potion? I don’t quite understand.”

“Watch,” she says, pointing across the circle. A girl with shoulder length, wavy brown hair (Al thinks her name is Olivia, but he’s terrible with names) is gesturing towards Matt, a boy in their dormitory who keeps to himself.

“Dare!” Matt calls gleefully. “Do your worst, Liv.”

Liv rubs her hands together. “Dare you to wear a dress for twenty-four hours.” Matt pulls a face, but takes a swig out of the red potion regardless. He stands up, almost in a jaunty fashion, and walks to the girls’ dormitory. “Has to be one of mine, though!” She yells. 

There’s a high pitched shriek as he muscles the doorway open. He puts one hand over his eyes and disappears into the room. Five minutes later, he emerges wearing a flowy purple dress with spaghetti straps. 

The girls wolf-whistle; the guys look at anywhere but the girls, hoping to avoid Matt’s fate. Matt shakes himself once he sits down once more. “I don’t look that bad, do I?”

“No,” Scorpius says quietly. Matt smiles at Scorpius and gives him a thumbs-up. A patch of red blooms on Scorpius’ cheekbone. Al scowls, but stops as soon as he starts. He has no right to feel jealous. He knows this. Still, he grumbles and crosses his arms.

“Alright. Who wants a go?” Matt says cheerfully. “Emily?”

“Truth, please,” Emily says, rolling her eyes. “I don’t trust you and your dares. They’re always… dastardly.”

“I’m a Slytherin! It’s practically required!” They begin to bicker good-naturedly. Al tunes them out and hums to himself. It feels nice to be included, if only because they nearly destroyed the world. Al doesn’t mind having more friends - so long as he always has Scorpius by his side. 

Al leans over to Scorpius. “So the potion forces you to do the dare… or truth, I guess… to completion? I wonder how that works.”

“I don’t know. But at least it’s not a real violation of will. They decide if they want to do what’s asked of them and then they take the potion, so they have some choice in the matter.” Scorpius makes a soft sound of understanding. Or amazement. Al isn’t quite sure, but it resonated somewhere in his chest and it’s making him feel warm. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Al shrugs. Something dangerous is stirring in his chest. Like hope. Like maybe, if someone asks the right question, he could end up being closer to Scorpius. End up being more with Scorpius. He crosses his fingers reflexively. “How bad can it be, Scorp?” 

Scorpius snorts. “Famous last words.” He grimaces after a moment. “It’s only… I worry about this sort of game. It’s not really violating your will, but it is a sort of peer pressure, and I don’t want anyone to end up hurt.”

“Only person I can hurt is myself,” Al declares. Scorpius’ grimace worsens, if anything. Al grins at him, hoping that he looks reassuring. He pats Scorpius’ knee and a myriad of worried thoughts bubble up in his brain. _That’s platonic right? I can do that, right? He won’t get mad at me?_

Scorpius blushes. Al decides he doesn’t regret the motion at all and turns back to the game. His face feels hot.

“I’ll go!” Al says. A boy named Evan gets a sneaky smile on his face.

“Truth or dare?” Al weighs his options. If he picks truth and it’s something uncomfortable, he can’t back out without looking funny. If it’s a dare, though, he can pretend he’s a big fat coward. Well, pretending wouldn’t be hard; he is one.

“Dare.”

“I dare you to kiss the person that you think is the prettiest.” Evan claps his hands together. “And notice how I said person! It’s gender-neutral, Emily, now I’m not forcing people to… conform to oppressive heteronormativity, or whatever you said.”

Emily beams. “You said it right! Aw, wittle baby Evan’s all gwon up,” she teases. Matt ruffles the other boy’s hair and sticks out his tongue. As they play-fight, Al plays with the bottle with the red cap. 

He knows exactly who this potion would have him kiss. 

“Fuck it,” he mumbles, and takes a swig. The potion tastes sweet and slides down his throat effortlessly. His thigh muscle spasms. Then his whole leg starts shaking. It wants to stand up, to move. To do something. Then he’s standing up and looking around the room. He’s dimly aware that this is what he’s doing; he feels like someone took over his body and is pressing all the buttons he would press in a perfect world. 

Al sits down in front of Scorpius. Scorpius looks back at him. The blond boy’s head is tilted to the side, and the rosy patches on his cheeks are growing more red by the second. “Al, what are you doing?” Scorpius whispers hesitantly. 

Jerkily, Al realigns the course of his body. _Not on the mouth,_ he tells himself. _Evan never specified where I had to kiss him. He looks so upset. Fuck, I’ve messed up. He probably thinks I’m gross and-_ He kisses Scorpius on the cheek. Instantly the potion evaporates from his system. He blinks and looks at Scorpius, who is touching his cheek with an expression of mixed shock and dismay and something else. Something that sets Al’s teeth on edge.

Al feels bile gather in his throat. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all.

“You never said on the lips, Evan!” Al calls with false cheer. Evan makes a snarky comment in return, and they move on.

It only takes a few more minutes before the game starts to fall apart. Right before Scorpius’ turn , he gets up abruptly, a hand still pressed to his cheek. “Guys, I’m knackered. I’m heading off to bed, yeah?”

“Aw, Scorpius! You just got here! You can’t leave yet!” the group choruses. Except for Al. Al sits there, dumbstruck, a finger hovering over his lips. Scorpius’ cheek was so soft. He wants to kiss it again. Scorpius smiles apologetically before closing the door decisively.

“I’m leaving too,” Al announces, scrambling to follow his friend. “See you guys later.”

Evan wiggles his eyebrows. “We all know you’re together,” he says, matter-of-fact. “You and Scorpius. I wanted to confirm it.” Suddenly, Al feels something vicious and vile seize his chest. He storms towards Evan.

“For your information, we’re not,” he snarls. Evan scrambles away, wide-eyed. “Thank you for your input, though!” he adds, in a far cheerier voice that drips with sarcasm. “Really helpful. It’s quite nice to gossip. Definitely asked for it. Toodles, guys! Love you all very beaucoup.”

He stomps away, back towards the dormitory, only to find Scorpius lingering there. “You know, the phrase ‘very beaucoup’ is redundant,” he informs Al. “Did you know that? Because beaucoup, translated from French, well actually when you think about it-”

“I don’t speak French, Scorp,” he practically spits. Scorpius looks wounded. Al takes a deep breath. It’s not Scorpius he’s mad at. He’s mad at himself and the world and those stupid conniving Slytherins downstairs. He makes sure his voice is softer when he speaks to his friend again. “Do you want to get ready for bed?”

“Sure,” Scorpius says. “Yeah, totally, definitely.” Al looks down at his feet, embarrassed. He was so caught up in everything that he completely snubbed Scorpius.

He tries again. He’s not upset with Scorpius. It’s not his fault that Al’s stupidly crushing on him. “Why is very beaucoup redundant, Scorp?” Al wonders how much of that conversation Scorpius heard, and panics. Did he say the wrong thing? Was getting mad at Evan not the right answer? 

“Well, you see, beau means beautiful in French. It can also mean fabulous young man or boyfriend in English! I like how we stole that word from the French. It sounds nice. Anyway, beau is the first half of the word. The second half is coup, and that word can mean a lot of things! Even in French! It can mean bang, or punch, or shot, or stroke, but not like the disorder, and also time, and sometimes alcoholic beverages!” Scorpius pauses for breath. “It can also mean… er.” Scorpius turns red. “Nevermind.”

Al wants to snog Scorpius senseless. Merlin, Scorpius looks irresistibly cute when he blushes. He drags the boy into the bathroom and lowers his voice to a whisper. “What else?”

Scorpius shivers. “Well, it can, sometimes, be translated to mean…uh, to shag. To bang someone, that is. You know. I don’t know what shagging has to do with the word - or, phrase, I suppose - a lot. Anyway, back to my original point.”

Al snorts and reaches up to ruffle Scorpius’ hair. Scorpius looks down at him, and Al has to fight the urge to recoil because he _kissed his best friend, and Scorpius didn’t like it._ They both look away from each other immediately. The air surrounding them as they brush their teeth is thick and uncomfortable. 

“Have you ever kissed anyone?” Al asks, of course, because he’s an idiot. Scorpius splutters and ends up spitting out some toothpaste onto the mirror. It drips.

He wipes his chin with the back of his hand. “No, Al, I haven’t. You’d know if I had.”

“Yeah.” More silence. Scorpius rinses out his mouth; Al spits neatly into the bowl. “Do you want to?”

Scorpius gives him an incredulous side-eye glance before splashing water onto his face. “Of course I do. What kind of question is that?” Al notices that his hands are trembling slightly as Scorpius lifts the towel to pat his face dry. “Don’t you?”

“I never wanted to. Before.” Scorpius raises his eyebrows. “Before this year.”

“Oh?”

Al nods. “Yeah. Something changed.”

Scorpius swallows, and the sound is impossibly loud in the closed space. “After last year, you mean?”

“Definitely.” Al watches a drop of water slide down Scorpius’ temple. “I think… after we screwed up the world… I certainly realized a few things about myself. Didn’t you? I mean, you went through a lot more than I did. You spent… a long time, apart from me.”

Scorpius nods, his eyes downcast. Something crosses his face, and for a moment, his expression darkens and his lip curls. But whatever the memory or emotion was, it left as quickly as it came. Scorpius braces both arms on the counter. “I sacrificed a lot in the other world. It taught me something scary about myself. But it was something I knew all along. It was something I’ve known since… since I was thirteen. But I finally learned to admit it to myself.”

“I remember you told me that you had a lot more power when… when it was Voldemort Day.” Scorpius cracks a smile, but it’s small and fleeting. He takes a deep breath, and turns to face Al fully. 

_Al, I want to kiss you._ Al shakes himself, curses himself for being so vain. 

“Albus, I’m not straight.” Al blinks.

“Why’d you say my full name? I haven’t heard you call me that in four years.” Scorpius wrenches his gaze from the countertop, eyes wide. Al offers him a hesitant smile, trying to communicate that he’s the same way, that he would never judge his best friend. That he loves him.

The thought nearly leaves him winded. No, it doesn’t. Al reflects. It makes a whole lot of sense, him being in love with Scorpius. It explains away a lot of emotions, and reactions he’s had, and why sometimes he feels so strongly for the other boy that it hurts.

“Did you hear me?”

“Yes, I did, Scorp.” Al slides a little closer to the other boy. The blond hair is tousled; it’s one of the few times Scorpius hasn’t been immaculate. Even when he wakes up, his hair is always perfectly arranged. He doesn’t even drool. “Do you want to hear a secret?”

“I don’t know, do I?” Al turns fully towards Scorpius. The other boy follows suit. He’s ripped off a scab from his lip with his teeth, and there’s a red spot on his pink lips. Al wipes it away, the pad of his thumb sticking to Scorpius’ bottom lip.

“I’m not straight, either.” Scorpius is frozen, watching Al swipe his finger against his mouth. Scorpius’ back hits the countertop, and Al stands in front of him, tracking every movement the other boy makes. He doesn’t want to overstep any bounds too quickly. 

Al drops his hand. “Is that so?” Scorpius’ voice is breathy. Al leans in a little closer. 

“Yeah.” Neither of them move a muscle. Al doesn’t even dare breathe for fear of ruining the moment. Finally, Al leans in so close that his breath is on Scorpius’ skin. “It is.” Their noses are almost touching. All he would have to do is turn his face the tiniest fraction to the side, and move a hair-width closer, and their lips would touch. Scorpius’ eyes are fluttering shut. 

“OI!” A loud bang separates them. “WOULD YOU TWO SPEED IT UP IN THERE? I NEED TO PISS AND I CAN’T HAVE ANY MONOLOGUING HAPPENING WHEN I’M PISSING!” Al staggers back so fast that he smacks his head against the wall and groans. “NOPE! DON’T WANT TO HEAR THOSE SOUNDS, NO, ABSOLUTELY NOT! ALBUS SEVERUS AND SCORPIUS… SOMETHING…. YOU BETTER NOT BE DOING WHAT I THINK YOU ARE!”

Scorpius turns to Al, wide-eyed. Al opens his mouth to try to tell Matt off, cuss him out, do something, but Scorpius has already turned towards the bathroom door. His wand is out - _when did he take his wand out?_ \- and his eyes look a little watery. His jaw is clenched so tightly it must hurt.

“Matt, I can’t believe you don’t know Scorpius’ middle name,” Al jokes, but his words sound hollow. He wonders if Scorpius appreciates it. He wonders what is going through Scorpius’ mind. He can’t have imagined the past few moments - unless it was a fluke.

He thinks he’s going to be sick. _What if Scorpius was faking it? And he’s upset with Matt’s insinuations because… because they’re the farthest thing from the truth?_ Al feels sore, and winded, like he’s run for a very long time and only figured out how to stop a second ago. 

Scorpius shoves the door open violently, and it swings shut with an impressive bang. Al presses his ear to the door; he’s sure that anything he does now would only interfere with Scorpius’ plans. And his friend wasn’t sorted into Slytherin for no reason. He can’t distinguish any noise, though. 

When Matt enters the bathroom, he’s completely silent. He gives Al a sheepish glance, but doesn’t say a word. “What did Scorpius do to you?”

Matt still doesn’t speak, so he opens the door to the dormitory. Scorpius is gone, but Henry sits on his bed, mouth agape. Al stares at him incredulously. He’s torn between figuring out what happened and going to search for Scorpius.

“Scorpius jinxed Matt so that if he speaks, there’s a 50/50 chance that either spit dribbles out of his mouth uncontrollably, or he makes breathy moaning sounds. And I’m pretty sure he had a Howler in his hand when he left. I don’t know where he got that, though,” Henry informs Al, “But I can tell that Matt is going to be sorry for what he said.”

“Good.” Henry gives him a wary look. Al chuckles without any feeling behind it. “Don’t make that face at me. I’m not going to jinx you too.”

“Was he right, though?” Henry pries. “Scorpius looked pretty upset when he left.”

Al’s heart clenches painfully. “No.” His voice comes out hoarse. It sounds as exhausted as he feels. “No, he’s not right.”

Henry looks like he wants to ask more questions, but the glare Al gives him in return makes his jaw snap shut. “I’m going to bed. Tell Scorp that…” his voice breaks in the middle of the sentence. Merlin, Henry must think he’s so obvious. “That I’m sorry. He’ll know what I mean.”

Henry nods. Al retreats to his bed and pulls the curtains shut tightly, revelling in the harsh sounds they make when they swish shut. 

**SIXTH YEAR.**

The air tastes like salt to Al. He’s fairly sure that there’s sand in his teeth, somehow.

“I told you to avoid the mouth, didn’t I?” Al says, his voice dripping with fondness. Scorpius snores in response. Al grins at the sleeping boy. Even Scorpius’ snores are dainty, for Merlin’s sake.

They had spent the day at the Potter’s house by the sea. “Al,” Scorpius had said, “Bet if I bury you in sand, you won’t be able to crawl out of it.”

“Two Galleons and you’re on, mate,” Al challenged right back. Scorpius smiled with all of his teeth and he looked so goofy and Al almost kissed him right there. But he didn’t. He simply clambered into the hole that Scorpius had dug dutifully and allowed the other boy to shovel sand on top of him.

Of course, Scorpius had never specified to escape without magic, and a good wizard always carried their wand. “You dirty snake!” Scorpius had shrieked at him, waving his arms dramatically. To be truthful, he resembled more of a flopping fish rather than anything intimidating, but Al never spoke this thought aloud.

He merely grinned at his best friend. “I’m a Slytherin at heart. What can I say?”

“Cheater.” Scorpius had grumbled for over an hour. Once or twice, Al had closed his eyes for a moment and found wet sand stuffed down his t-shirt. He had learned long ago not to invoke Scorpius’ wrath for fear of retaliation - how could he forget the Matt Incident of 2021? - but Scorpius always went easier on Al.

Scorpius makes a loud gasping sound in his sleep, causing Al to shake himself from his daydreaming and turn towards his friend. Then he goes back to snoring. It’s less of a snore and more of a faint honk.

Al smiles. Scorpius looks a lot less sharp in his sleep. His face is slack, relaxed, and there’s the faintest hint of a smile curving his lips. Al does not linger on Scorpius’ lips. He doesn’t. 

He makes a groaning sound to rival Scorpius’ unconscious snuffling. Sometimes everything feels so clear cut in his brain that there’s no use agonizing over it. The way Scorpius always makes him smile, no matter what the situation is… how the other boy makes his heart hurt but in the best way possible… how cherry-red his lips are…

And other times, unpredictably, his chest will feel like it’s caving in and it feels like the end of the world. Al knows it can only spell heartbreak for him, or worse: for Scorpius.

Al makes a balled fist. He resolves one thing to himself: the other boy can never know about his feelings. Never. It would destroy them both. Al, because Scorpius could never, not once in a million years, feel remotely the same way; Scorpius, because it would tear their friendship to unrecognizable shreds, and Al knows that he’s Scorpius’ only friend.

Scorpius screams loudly, and Al almost screams right back in surprise before instincts kick in. He hurriedly rolls over and pulls his friend into an upright position without thinking twice about it. Scorpius’ grey eyes are wide and unseeing. He’s shrieking like a banshee, but immobile except for his shaking shoulders and mouth.

“Scorpius,” Al whispers. “Scorpius, wake up.” Briefly, he remembers his dad’s advice: never wake a sleeping person from a nightmare. But at this rate, Scorpius is going to wake everyone else up, and Al has an itchy feeling that Scorpius might not want to talk about this dream with anyone else. 

“Delphi… please,” Scorpius whimpers. Al gives him another vigorous shake, and Scorpius all but collapses into his arms.

“Al, Al, Al…” he cries. The front of Al’s pyjamas are wet. It doesn’t matter. He cradles the blond boy in his arms; the position is awkward, and Scorpius has to slump over in a most probably uncomfortable manner, but none of this is important in the least. “You’re here.”

“I’ll always be here, Scorpius.” The conviction he feels nearly shatters his heart. “I’d never leave you. I promise I’ll never leave you.”

“It wasn’t real, was it?” Scorpius sounds years younger than he actually is. Al pictures toddler Scorpius, curiously pulling down books from shelves and asking questions about abstract concepts years beyond his level. The image makes his heart lurch uncomfortably. 

“No. You’re safe now. Delphi can’t hurt us here.” Al summons a book at random from the shelf nearby. A copy of _A Brief Introduction into the Society and Customs of the Greek Wizarding World: Part One._ “Do you want me to read? To you?”

“Yes, please.” They haven’t done this in months. Scorpius had convinced Al that his nightmares had stopped, and Al had believed him. But now was not the time for a fierce interrogation and denouncing of lies. Scorpius looks frightened, small. 

Al rearranges their bodies until their heads are almost touching. Scorpius has his arms around Al’s torso, and Al has one hand on Scorpius’ hipbone and the other resting on the cover of the book, ready to turn pages. Al tries not to think about the warm of Scorpius’ breath on his cheek. How close the other boy’s mouth is.

To keep himself sane, to keep himself from pressing down on the sharp edge of Scorpius’ hipbone, Al clears his throat and reads aloud. It’s dreadfully boring, thick text, full of words he doesn’t know how to pronounce, but Scorpius is patient and always says the correct pronunciation in such an adorably sleepy voice that Al can’t even bring himself to get frustrated.

“I’m pretty sure it was in this village that they invented rudimentary cleaning spells for clothing and eating utensils,” Scorpius says. His expression shifts. He scrunches up his face with confusion, and he looks so adorable that Al’s afraid he might eat his best friend alive. “Wait, how do Muggles clean up, again?”

Scorpius desperately had wanted to take a Muggle Studies course, but he didn’t have time in his schedule. Al dutifully took it for him. _I would do anything for him._ The thought surprises him, but not for long. It’s true; he would.

“Well, not with wands, obviously,” Al quips. The response is silly, but he knows it’ll cheer Scorpius up. They both laugh, twisting about, shuffling closer to one another in the process. Al looks up, and then back down at the faint outline of his best friend’s face. He tucks a piece of Scorpius’ hair behind his ear, and then worries that he’s overstepped. He rushes to answer his friend’s question before either of them can think about the movement for too long. 

“Well, there’s lots of different ways, and it depends on what you want to clean.” he responds. Al closes the book and discards it carelessly onto the floor. Scorpius will berate him for that the next morning, he supposes, but right now the blond boy is too enraptured in learning new things to care. “Do you want to hear about the utensils or the clothing first?”

“Tell me both at the same time.” Al grins. No nightmare can change Scorpius’ demeanor that much. That boy is always hungry for knowledge. 

“Okay, so for dishes, you can either use a sponge or a machine, but some dishes can’t go in the machine because it’s unsafe.” Scorpius opens his mouth to interrupt, and Al places a finger on his lips. Al removes it quickly and looks down at the sheets.

“Well. As I was saying…”

It is a little past four in the morning when Scorpius lets out a quiet snore. Al’s exhausted, but he doesn’t let himself succumb to dreams at the moment. Right now, he wants to relish the sight before him without something separating him.

It is a long time before Al falls asleep. He’s got quite the view.

**SEVENTH YEAR.**

When Al finds Scorpius, after three days of the other boy studiously avoiding him, the blond Slytherin has his back to a tree and a nose in his book.

It’s some theoretical Charms textbook. It’s definitely way over Al’s head. He stands, frozen in the middle of the grounds, staring at the other boy.

A piece of hair has become untucked from his ear. Al’s hand starts to itch; he wants to stride over and to tuck it again. He shoves his hands in his pockets to prevent himself from doing anything rash and romantic and stupid.

The last word bounces around his head like a wild Snitch. _Stupid._

Carefully, quietly, he walks to the base of the tree, approaching it from the opposite side to remain unseen. He sits down, crosses his legs, and leans his back against the sturdy wood. Al knots his fingers in his lap, and then unknots them. 

“Do you remember what happened in fifth year?” he says softly. There’s an audible thunk, and Al winces; Scorpius certainly hit his head against the tree. That ought to have hurt. Al’s chest constricts and he begins to feel his guilt thread through his veins again. 

There’s a faint rustling sound. Al cranes his neck around the tree hopefully, but he doesn’t see any lanky blond boys walking towards him. He frowns and sits back against the trunk once more. Hopefully Scorpius will forgive him. 

Scorpius doesn’t respond. Al has convinced himself that the other boy has gotten up and walked away - _serves me right, anyway, I did the same thing to him_ \- when he hears a tentative knocking sound through the wood. Two short, deliberate raps. It makes Al break out into a smile. Scorpius is saying, _I’m listening._

“I realized… a lot of things about myself. That I was gay, firstly. That I like Potions.” He can hear Scorpius snicker. He smiles. Not all hope is lost, it seems. It makes it easier for him to say what comes next. What is most important. “That I care about you more than I care about anyone or anything else.”

He can hear Scorpius’ sharp intake of breath. He pauses, allows Scorpius to collect himself, and soldiers on. “I started to realize this in fourth year. When… when Delphi…” his throat closes, and he feels tears glisten at the corners of his eyes. Al swipes at them roughly. “You know what she did. I can’t describe how… strongly I felt.” Strongly is not the right word, but Scorpius will understand.

“I didn’t know what I was feeling then. But I found out soon enough. But I haven’t learned my lesson, haven’t I?” He cracks a grin, despite the fact that Scorpius can’t see it. “I still… I still manage to screw things up with you. Give you the wrong idea. Make you think… you don’t matter.

“You matter so much, Scorpius.” The ferocity of his conviction leaves him breathless, but only momentarily. “Merlin above. You make me… you make me sound like a blithering idiot. I think you’re the most important thing in the whole world, period. More important than Honeydukes chocolate.”

“Really?” Al jolts, hearing Scorpius’ voice ring out clearly. Then, something covers his eyes and he screams. Al reaches for his eyes and swiftly removes the blindfold that has been placed there.

Al looks up. It’s Scorpius, with his wand out, another blindfold already conjured. He has a strange mix of expressions on his face. He’s smiling, but it’s a small smile, and his eyes look crinkled and sad. And he has the rosy cheeks again, the cheeks that Al loves the sight of.

“Did you know that I try my hardest to make you blush because you look so pretty when you do it?” Al says. He decides to try the unfiltered approach. Maybe that will have better results. Scorpius turns redder instead of responding.

“And I don’t like girls. Especially not Emily. I was pissed off that you were telling me I couldn’t… do whatever I wanted, but I didn’t really want to do that, either. I guess I was sick of us hiding from each other and I blew up at you and I’m so sorry.” Al holds out his palms towards Scorpius. He wants to touch the other boy’s face. He wants to cradle Scorpius in his arms.

Scorpius is silent. Even the smile has fallen from his lips now. Al drops his hands. The moment Al decides to let it go and go back to being friends and pretending this ordeal never happened, Scorpius speaks. “Why did you leave me?” He talks in a sad, small voice, and Al feels something shatter in his chest, it hurts him so. 

“Earlier?” Scorpius nods. “I was afraid. Of how powerfully I was feeling. And I thought you knew how I felt. After fifth year…"

“I thought that you were… I don’t know. I’m dumb. I couldn’t believe that you thought I was the prettiest, so I thought you were using some technical override - like oh, he never told me I had to kiss them on the lips, and he never said anything about the person I had a crush on…” Al cracks a smile at Scorpius’ roundabout thinking. Scorpius watches him and smiles slightly in return. “Even after that conversation we had in the bathroom…” Al knows his cheeks are dark, but at this point, he can’t bring himself to care. “We never talked about it, and we were both so cold to each other later, and after a certain point bringing it up was more uncomfortable than staying silent about it.”

“If he had asked me to kiss the person I had a crush on, it wouldn’t have been you. Not then.” Scorpius’ face falls. He steadies himself, and opens his mouth, probably to make another dramatic declaration, but Al beats him to it. He’s been waiting to say this for two- no, for six years. He’s going to say it now, Merlin, even if it kills him. “I already loved you by then.”

Scorpius’ breath hitches. “Wait a sec,” he says. Al nods. The boy retreats around to the other side of the tree. “It’s easier to say when I’m not looking at you,” Scorpius confesses. “You make my words come out all funny and stuttery and my heart beat wrong. So I’m going to say it from over here.”

“Alright.” Al isn’t sure if he should laugh or cry. His body has decided to do a little bit of both, but laughing might make Scorpius lose his nerve. He shoves a fist in his mouth to stifle any sound.

“I love you too, Al.” 

Al feels warmth growing in his chest. Very carefully, he points his wand at his eyes and mutters the Blindfolding Charm. He stands up, using the trunk of the tree for balance, and circumvents the base.

“We’re so silly,” he says to Scorpius. He reaches down and blindly pats the top of the other boy’s head. “Can we stay like this forever?”

Scorpius must’ve stood up, because all of a sudden his body is crowding Al’s against the tree. Gingerly, Scorpius removes the blindfold from Al’s eyes. He pushes it up and lets it rest on the top of his head.

They both lean in. Or maybe Scorpius does. Or maybe it’s Al. Maybe it doesn’t matter. One moment, Scorpius has his hand on either side of Al’s head and his forehead lightly pressed against the other boy’s. They’re panting slightly, from the heat or exhaustion or sheer exhilaration of the past three days.

The next, their lips are colliding softly. All Al can think is warm. It’s messy, and their teeth collide, and Al wants to live in this memory. He could probably cast a million Patronuses with this memory. He carefully places his hand on the back of Scorpius’ head and threads the white-blond hair through his fingers. Relishing that he can do that, properly, now.

Scorpius pulls back, staggering slightly. There’s a million stars in his eyes. Al couldn’t look away if he wanted to. “Al?”

“Yeah?” 

“I think I might black out again if we… we do that for that long again,” Scorpius confesses. “I don’t mind not breathing though, if I’m… if we’re… doing that. Are we doing that? Regularly? Because I’d quite like to, and I think you would, to, but maybe you meant I love you as a friend and you’re exceptionally tactile-”

Al kisses Scorpius again before crowding him against the tree. It’s not as long as the other kiss; Al wants to trace every bit of Scorpius now that he can. One hand is pressed against Scorpius’ chest, while the other goes back to his hair. 

“Hey, Al?” Scorpius’ eyes are twinkling. Al feels his face break into a full toothy smile. He can’t help it.

“What’s up?”

“You can say ‘you were right all along, Scorpius.’” Scorpius does a small flourish with his hands, smiling widely. Al feels his face stretch further, if it’s even possible.

“Right about what, smartypants?” Al teases.

“That maybe you shouldn’t kiss ginger girls like your father did.” Al’s jaw drops, but he can’t keep up the hurt look. He starts giggling. The sound surprises the both of them, and Scorpius leans down and captures Al’s lips with another kiss. Al wonders if he can get drunk from kissing. 

“Yeah, I was totally doing that for my father, you know.” Al rolls his eyes before leaning in close. “Did you ever consider that I was doing it for you?” Okay, maybe that was a stretch. He certainly was thinking of Scorpius when Emily kissed him, but he's not that much of a Slytherin to have made an elaborate scheme out of the Quidditch game.

Scorpius gasps and swats Al on the shoulder. “You know I inherited my father’s jealous streak! Al!” 

Al stifles another giggle behind a hand. “I thought we weren’t talking about our fathers?”

“Maybe we should stop talking altogether,” Scorpius suggests, grinning mischievously.

“Oh?” Al challenges, and takes a step closer. “What would you like to suggest?”

They both lean in.


End file.
